Brooke and Brennan's Tale:
by Bex Blaque
Summary: Set in the realms of the 9 Kingdoms in Memories Like Stone. This is an adventure laced with drama romance and scenes of astounding bladework. Brooke and Brennan may be the Romeo and Juliet of the kingdoms but then again maybe not.
1. Chapter 1: First Meetings

Brooke looked at him from under her long golden hued lashes, he was tall and moved with the familiar grace of a panther, undertanding that he was trained to kill and she, more likely than not, was his target. He grinned disarmingly at her brushing back a lock his platinum blonde from his glittering green eyes his lithe form continued moving closer and closer. He won't attack me in the middle of the court, she reassures herself, he'll wait until he can get me alone as if that would ever happen. Brooke stood smiled coyly and moved disappearing into a crowd of people joining the throng in a circle dance. She nearly forgot the man as she lost herself in the whirling steps and lively measures of the dance, the haymaker, she thought, but his image remained burned in the back of her mind. Yet still it came as a shock to her when his lithe form became her last partner of the dance.  
>He whirled her through the steps his face a clearly bemused grin as the last measures of the song faded. "My Lady," He bows low, "May I be so bold as to compliment you on your agility?"<br>"I suppose you may," Brooke sniffed, "As long as you dispense with the formalities unless you are trying to get me killed."  
>"You wound me deeply," He bows lower, "I would not see your beauty wasted on death espescially if you are as light on your feet at the waltz as you were in the haythresher." "You wouldn't be asking me to dance again would you good sir?" Brooke grinned she couldn't help but like this man's audacity. It was clear he knew her for who and thus what she was and yet he wished to dance with her. "Mayhap if you tell me your name I will tell you my answer."<br>"My gracious queen, the name of your most humble servent is Brennan," He made a low sweeping bow, "And the truth mylady is that I was surprised to find you here I had heard tell that you were aloof perfering to reign from a distance."  
>"Brennan? You would not by chance happen to be Lord Brennan of Stone, the crown prince, would you?" So that is where his audacity springs from, anothor bloody noble, how disappointing.<br>"Unfortunately yes and lucky for you I am not here for propriety either. My question, Brooke, is why are you here instead of at the ball?" He grins.  
>"I find the nobility boring," I say simply, "And perhaps dancing with you is not quite torture perhaps you can dance better than that young rapscillion Matthew over yonder."<br>"Is that a yes then?" "Perhaps," she grins holding out her hand and curtsying. The band plays a waltz not the grand sweeping waltz of the nobles orchestra but a soft wondering melody. Brennen twirled her around the floor holding her close dipping her low and smiling his charming smile revealing a dimpled chin. Brooke had always imagined her prince charming as tall and dark with dancing golden brown eyes but instead as her body sawyed to the music his arm gently around her waist and the world fading Brooke knew that in an enemy she had found that spark she had been looking for.

So the girl before him was the one his father had sent him after. The Queen of Winds was a mere slip of a thing. Her willowy figure seemed out of place amongst the plump peasent woman of the city and her halo of riglets caught and held the golden red glow of the fire seeming to belong to the flames her green eyes laughed mockingly at the men who asked her to dance. The other woman in the room all stared with the eyes of Envy herself as she danced circles around them and beguiled the hearts of their lovers with her crystaline laughter. Brennan could not imagine seeing this mission to the end. He couldn't kill her regardless of the rules, of the fued that she alone seemed unaware of. When she had first seen him he had caught her eyes had seen the intelligence the knowledge that he was there for her and that he was to end her life this night and yet she had still danced with him.  
>Even now she shot him a come hither look, her green eyes smouldering under the red hued gold of her eyelashes. He quickly made his way over to her shouldering past the man named Matthew whom she had declared a rapscallion with twenty left feet. I could feel his auger like stare as I met her obviously he had began to think of her as his and I began to wonder if these peasents even knew what their queen looked like.<br>"You summoned?" Brennan says teasingly before dodging a playful slap.  
>"I called you over because the wind whispers of a plot," She lifts a wooden chalace to her lips sipping delicately on watermelon wine, "One concerning your death. Apparently Matthew has grown possesive of me recently. My advice we skeedaddle back to the palace before we're caught and forced to reveal our identities."<br>"Skeedaddle?" Brennan tries out the word rolling it around in his mouth before returning her somber gaze, "I have heard simular plots from the maids for you so we are to leave then yes?"  
>Brooke giggled, and he couldn't help but grin at how girlish she sounded even though reports held her to be a fearsome warrior, "Don't make fun of my vocabulary and don't worry about that cackling gaggle of geese! they really are all talk and no show sadly."<br>"Sadly? My lady fair what do you mean by sadly?" he was shocked did she actually want them to attempt something? Did she look forward to assassination attempts thinking them some grand game? "Merely this," She says leading him from the room and out to the stables, her horse had been the giveaway that had brought him here, a mare the color of midnight, he had stabled his white charger in the stall next to hers, "If war were to really break out I fear for the lives of my people." 


	2. Chapter 2: Blessed Be The Warrior

She watched as her words sunk in. He processed them looking for hidden meanings, but Brooke could tell he couldn't find any. She had not meant any, for once she had told a stranger, the enemy at that, the absolute feared for her peoples safety they had never valued the trades of war. Blacksmith's wrought blades meant for decoration not for splitting skulls, and destiers were trained, but not to fight, not really. She was the only one it seemed who seemed to care, who seemed to see the war brewing. Stone's had gone far enough to send an assassin, the very one she had just confided to. She shook her head mounting up, why did she trust him? She hadn't a clue.

He watched her closely half afraid she'd pull a blade on him. For somereason it wouldn't surprise him if she did. He hadn't found any sign that Brooke was lying. She seemed truly afraid that war would be the end of her people their culture. Even her elite guards seemed to have glass swords. A war could easily wipe them off the map, and she knew it, but still she would not stand down. He mounted and followed close behind her admiring her seat, she was a natural born horsewoman. He kicked his stallion up to a trot drawing aside Brooke and her palfrey. "My lady please explain to me why you fear so? And what gives you premise to suspect a war?" Her eyes drifted to meet his, their green hue augerlike to his heart. "Where you not trained to find the weaknesses of your oppenant? Even an untrained eye of the courtier if looking could spot it. You were sent to see me off to the place all souls go after, whether I am heaven bound or hell bent I do not know." He began to protest but she raised a hand a soft command for silence. "Do not say that was not your purpose. I know for a fact it was, but it does puzzle me why you have yet to kill me. Perhaps your loyalty to those who gave the order is not as unwavering as the reports say, Brennan." "Do not doubt my loyalty child queen," He frowned at her, "I do not doubt my Queen, Lady Gaia, my father though is another story." She tilted her head regarding him. He could almost see the mule turning the wheels in her mind. "You do not, the, trust your father?" "My father I respect but no I do not trust his judgement entirely. I fear him to be too ambitious." Ambitious, cruel, power hungery, and desprete for Lady Gaia's attention. Brooke could feel the corner of her mouth twitchen up into a if she could convince this man to go against his orders he would be the key to Winds salvation. She reavaluated him. He sat his steed well straight backed and yet light in the saddle unlike the sacks of coal that called themselves courtiers on the hunt. The light of the moon only revealed half his face to her, and she could sense a chilling depth to him. She also sensed his doubt. He had come to her so assured earlier, so ready to kill that in his gaze she could feel the blade that would carve out her heart as a prize. Now though he seemed doubtful. Perhaps she could encourage that doubt and save her kingdom. Winds needed to grow a backbone, she knew, she pushed for it, she fought against the flops in the council room over it. She was fighting a losing battle to prepare for a war, a war that would soon come, a war that would leave only scattered ruins of the nation of Winds. "Brooke?" His voice broke through her thoughts. "Forgive me. What did you say?" She cast another glance at him. She had no doubt that he could kill her, no doubt at all. She had almost as much doubt that he was different than any other man she had ever met. "You grew quiet Brooke," His voice held a tone she was unfamiliar with she realized, "and your face became troubled as if you were thinking hard about something." She nodded she had been. "If its not out of line might I ask what troubles you so?" Her voice was calm, cool as she replied, "I have already told you of the matter that troubles me. What I want to know know is when does it end?" She watched his face half cloaked in night become puzzled before quickly regaining that charming composure. "When does what end?" She smiled, "My life? My fear? The looming threat of war? The feud between our families and seemingly now our kingdoms. I wish three of the four, but I realize wishing only wounds the heart." She had once wished for love, but was quickly turned away from such an idea. Love wasn't real, at least, not for royalty. You were matched power for power, gain for gain, there was no love in court only decption and pain. Perhaps this is why she found the commoner's festivities so much livlier than the nobles celebrations, they had love, and nobles had heartless power. She didn't give him a chance to answer instead changing the subject back to what he had said before, "Why do you doubt your father's judgement?" Her question caught him off guard. He reigned in his horse, and stared at her. He was not sure how to answer, at least, not without shaming his father and slandering his name. Hesitantly the whispered words came unbidden to his lips, "He told me to kill you, but he has never met you." The look she gave him was questioning guarded, but he could tell it had caught her as off guard as it had caught himself. "I suggest we do not arrive together. Your ensemble may be suspiscious, but please," Her words, that single gentle please, caught him, "Please accept my invitation to tea." She didn't wait for him to respond riding off. He watched her retreat pondering her behavior, her words, and his own. He had no doubt that if his father heard he had had the chance to kill her and had not the punishment would be excruciating. Perhaps though the punishment would be worth it. "Tebūna kariai," he whispered, 'Blessed be the warrior.'


End file.
